Page 13 of Sharing Silence

“Yeah.” He frowns at his phone, but it fades quickly when he sees me. His gaze drops down my dress, and he holds his arm out. “Wife.” The word is possessive, seductive, and I go to him, his lips quickly meeting mine. It’s far too intimate a kiss for an audience, but the spark it creates in my heart has me leaning into it, anyway. When he lifts his mouth from mine, I recognize something dark and delicious in his expression—the urge to play. “Doesn’t she look incredible, Yale?”

My heart thuds painfully against my rib cage, and I shift my gaze to my husband’s brother.

“Yes,” he says, his expression similarly heated as Zayden kisses my neck. “She does.”

The unspoken dream dances between us, and a pleasant throbbing between my legs has me squeezing my thighs together. The quiet holds so much potential. My nipples harden, and Zayden’s hand skims down my back, squeezing a handful of my⁠—

The roar of a motorbike interrupts the moment. Yale winks at me, and I stifle a stuttered laugh as Zayden snatches the door open. We step out into the December air, the street glowing with Christmas lights, front lawns covered in blow-up Santas and elves. It’s a colorful, pretty sight.

And then there’s Xavier.

Clad in his thick, worn biker leathers, he stops his bike on the drive before taking off his helmet. He climbs off, and his dark, silky hair slips through his fingers as he brushes it back.

“You’re late,” Zayden says through gritted teeth.

“You said be home by seven.” Xavier walks by us and into the house, stripping off his leathers. He tosses them and his helmet onto the sofa.

“And it’s fifteen past,” Yale points out. “Where’s your suit? You can’t get into this place in jeans and a T-shirt, X.”

Xavier cracks his neck, emerald eyes meeting mine. “I’m sure Little Q doesn’t mind me being late. Do you, Q?” I arch a brow and say nothing. It’ll dissolve into an argument that I can’t be assed to have, especially considering I’m still having flashbacks of what I saw this morning. “As for my outfit, I’d like to meet the person brave enough to get between me and a steak. Are we going?”

He breezes out of the house and over to the SUV, climbing into the back. Yale follows, and Zayden stands in place on the front doorstep.

“You coming?”

He works his jaw. “I need a minute.”

“He’s just being Xavier,” I say, resting my hand on his arm. “Ignore him. I plan on doing so for the rest of the evening.”

“It’s your birthday, baby.”

I smile and shrug. “When has X ever cared about what’s important to me?”

After bickering for a few minutes over who should drive, eventually I get into the driver’s seat. We battle our way through traffic with one brother giving crappy directions, one insisting he doesn’t “do navigation,” and the third sulking in the back seat. Yale sighs from behind me, insisting that Zayden is talking out of his ass when he tells me to turn left, and Xavier groans for the millionth time.

I’m going to kill all three of them.

“Okay, enough!” I bark, gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles bleaching. “I’m turning around!”

Xavier throws his hands up. “Thank fuck for that.”

“Not a chance. I booked this restaurant six months ago,” Zayden says from beside me. “Yale, if you know the way so damn well, you tell Silence where to go.”

“Or better yet, let me fucking drive,” Xavier snaps.

And it begins.

Zayden turns in his seat to glare at his brother. “Three words for you. Peanut butter. Racoon.”

“What happened to never bringing that up again?” Xavier flicks his brother’s cheek, and Zayden leans into the back, punching his brother’s leg, who starts cackling and punching him back.

Yale sighs. “This is not road safe.”

I let out a scream. “Everyone shut up, or this will become the smallest crime scene on earth! I swear I will paint the interior of this car with the blood of every male Silver!”

Everyone falls quiet, until Xavier whistles through his teeth. “Jesus, Q. That’s dark.”

“I am a woman on the edge,” I hiss.